


i know the sound of your heart

by TheEagleGirl



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Identity Porn, Johnny and Peter are idiots, M/M, but they're cute so it's ok, fantastic four makes cameos, they share one braincell, they're teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 18:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEagleGirl/pseuds/TheEagleGirl
Summary: Suddenly Johnny is grinning and so relieved that he blurts out, “I want to take you out.” At Peter’s confused look, he elaborates, somewhat unhelpfully. “You know, out.”Peter’s eyebrows raise so high that they disappear under his hair. He looks disbelieving. “I-uh. Really? Like, out as in out on a date?”Johnny rolls his eyes. “No, take you out as in kill you. Yes, on a date.”~~Prompt: Identity Porn, for SpideyTorch week 2019





	i know the sound of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first spideytorch fic! I'm...not quite sure what continuity this fits into, to be honest.

It’s halfway through a fight with the Mole Man that Johnny realizes, almost against his will, Spider-Man is _funny._ He’s in the middle of flaming some weird subterranean _moloid_ monster when he hears a shout and sees Spider-Man swing onto the scene, pulling a creature off Ben’s back. Despite their rocky first meeting—and _not_ that he’d ever say it—Johnny’s happy to have the help. 

That is, until Spider-Man opens his mouth. What comes out is a stream of nonsense that has Johnny sputtering as he flies above the carnage.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Johnny finally asks, when he gets close enough, frying one of the monster things. He’s been fighting off laughter for the better part of five minutes, which is _not_ conducive to maintaining his cool, detached, _dashing_ hero look.

Spider-Man, sticking to the side of a building, shoots Johnny a blank look. At least, Johnny thinks it’s a blank look. He can’t really tell, with the mask. 

“Um,” Spider-Man says. “Not really? Running my mouth is basically another super power at this point. Annoy the enemy into giving up!”

It’s _cute,_ the twitchy way he jokes. Johnny grins, unable to help himself. 

“You’re an idiot,” Johnny tells him, laughing at him, _delighted._ He thought that Spider-Man was just a standoffish jerk, the first few times they’d met. This is _so_ much better.

Spider-Man points his hands at Johnny, and webs shoot out. He tugs, muscles working under his suit, and Johnny tears his eyes away just in time to shoot a fireball at the moloid he’s webbed. 

Once the last of them have been knocked out and the Mole Man captured, Johnny whoops, burning bright. There’s nothing like a post-battle high, and Johnny realizes he and Spidey work _well_ together. When he holds out his de-flamed fist to Spider-Man for a bump, Johnny thinks that he might be grinning too, under his mask.

So, yeah. The start of a beautiful friendship, and all that. 

* * *

If asked before that fateful fight, Johnny would have told anyone that Spidey was a nuisance. They’ve crossed paths a few times before, as superheroes in New York are known to, but they’ve always clashed horribly. Once, a Daily Bugle article had called their overheard bickering “childish” and said that the “Spider-Menace provokes hero Human Torch into melting sidewalk in attempt to bring the arachnid to justice!” which, Johnny has to admit, wasn’t _fair,_ exactly—but still. They hadn’t gotten along, before. 

Johnny isn’t sure what changed, except now he doesn’t mind Spidey’s presence. In fact, in the past four months he’s flown around Manhattan more than just a few times just looking for traces of webs, tracking down Spidey for a team-up or a hot dog or a— _something._

The point is, Johnny likes spending time with him. It’s unexpected, it surprises him almost as much as it surprises his family, but he’s having _fun._ Spider-Man’s a bit skittish, but Johnny can tell that he likes having him around. 

Well, most of the time Spidey likes having Johnny around. 

Now, though, there’s no amusement in the way Spidey’s arms are crossed. “No. Nope, that’s it, Torch, friendship _over._ There’s no way the X-Men are more powerful than the Avengers.”

Johnny shoots him a devastating glare. Truly, truly devastating, if all the practice in the mirror this morning has paid off. He’s surprised Spidey doesn’t fall down on the _spot._ “The X-Men have Jean Grey, Spidey. _Jean Grey.”_

“Yeah, but they don’t have the Scarlet Witch. Or Thor. Or the Vision. Or the Hulk. Or-”

Johnny holds up his hands. “I get it, Spidey. You have bad taste. You should have just said so.”

Spidey squawks, indignant. “Ex- _cuse_ you, Torch, I have amazing taste! At least I didn’t pick the team with _Wolverine_ on it!”

“What’s wrong with Wolverine?” Johnny demands.

“He’s smelly!” 

_“You’re_ smelly!”

Spider-Man’s jaw works beneath his mask. He can see Spidey gnashing his teeth. Despite their argument, Johnny’s smiling widely.

“Low blow, Storm. The Bugle has it all wrong,” Spidey says, with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re a bully, Matchstick. They should be calling _you_ the menace.”

“Oh, you love it,” Johnny says, leaning over to steal Spidey’s fries. 

* * *

“So,” Ben says one day. They’re sitting on the couch and Johnny’s absolutely _obliterating_ him in Mortal Kombat. “You and Spidey.”

Johnny misses a kick, cursing both his fingers and Ben under his breath. “What about him?”

“You’re friends now?” There’s a practiced casualness about how Ben phrases the question, and Johnny’s hackles are raised.

“Sure,” he says, and takes the opportunity to punch Ben in the game. He executes a series of moves that have Ben’s character stumbling, and Ben frowns besides him. 

“Isn’t he a bit old for you?” Ben asks, once his character has been KO’d. There’s an edge of agitation in his voice as he starts a new game, and Johnny is glad for it. He never likes Ben’s staged conversations, likes Ben better when they’re both getting on each other’s nerves. 

“I think he’s a teenager, actually,” Johnny says, offhandedly. “He mentioned school a few times, and— _shit, Ben, you cheater!—_ he has a backpack with him when he’s swinging sometimes. Y’know, with books inside. And his clothes.”

“Isn’t it weird?” Ben asks. “Talking to someone when you can’t see their face?”

“I mean—sometimes. But not really. You get used to it,” Johnny says.

He creams Ben in the game a couple more times, and then he’s off, flaming on and out the window before Sue can stop him.

The truth is, it _is_ weird, being friends with Spidey and having no idea what he looks like. Johnny knows he’s pale, under that mask, the few times he’s seen Spidey lift his mask up to his nose in order to eat. Once, his mask ripped and Johnny saw a lock of messy brown hair escaping, before Spidey pushed it back in and swung away.

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Johnny tells himself. He’s glad they’re friends. He knows how protective Spidey is of his identity. Johnny doesn’t _need_ to know. He has this part of Spidey, the wild laughter during a fight, the intensity when it’s not quite going their way, the ease of late night rooftop conversations. It’s enough.

Sometimes, though…sometimes he thinks he wants more, sometimes he _wants..._

Johnny never lets himself complete the thought. 

* * *

Johnny’s not sure how long he’s blacked out for, but he’s only able to figure out he’s falling like, _seconds_ before he becomes a smear on the pavement, flames on long enough to slow his descent, but not fast enough to completely stop it. The doombot that dropped him is a smudge in the sky above him, and Johnny has time to think, _that’s far,_ before he’s burning through brick and metal, and suddenly he’s crashed through a _building._

He thinks he hears screams. He’s pretty sure there’s screaming, and people rushing to a door, but between his spots in his eyes and the blood rushing in his ears, Johnny can’t orient himself. He can’t even see the doombot anymore, and he’s too out of it to think.

Finally, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Hears the words from far away, “...Torch? Are you o…” 

When he finally blinks, and his vision clears, there’s a guy his age staring at him, brow furrowed in concern.

There’s a smudge of soot on the guy’s cheek, and his hair is dirty, probably from...well, Johnny making the ceiling fall down. He’s still shaking Johnny.

“I’m okay,” Johnny says hoarsely. “Where am I?”

“Midtown High,” the guy says. “In Queens. You crashed into the middle of our Spanish quiz.”

Johnny swears, and tries to sit up. His vision is blurry. “Did I hurt anyone?” he asks, half not wanting to hear the answer, because...well. He brought down a _ceiling_ on a high school class.

“No, everyone ran out when you landed. Y’know, when the ceiling started smoking and all.” 

Johnny groans. This _hurts,_ and he feels like he’s going to be sick. “Sorry. I should have caught myself faster, I should’ve—”

When he opens his eyes again, the guy looks worried. “I—uh. Don’t beat yourself up over it? I didn’t study for this quiz anyways,” he jokes, weakly. He pulls a water bottle out of his bag, and Johnny accepts it gratefully. “Are you alright, man? You don’t look good.”

Now that Johnny’s had the water, he feels a bit better. Good enough to crack, “No? Maybe I need mouth-to-mouth.” 

The guy—who’s _cute,_ by the way, Johnny wants to kick himself for looking like shit in front of him—looks startled for a second, before joking back, “I only give mouth-to-mouth to _really_ good friends.”

Johnny smiles, even though every muscle in his face hurts. There’s a bruise forming, he can feel it. At least his nose doesn’t seem broken. “What’s your name?”

The guy looks wary, but sits back on his heels, pulling Johnny up to a seated position. “Peter,” he says. His gaze is assessing, and Johnny has to check to make sure he’s not on fire under it. “I’m Peter Parker.”

* * *

Dr. Doom gets away, which _sucks_ because Johnny has been looking forward to personally punching him in the face. He settles for melting the doombot that knocked him down into _Queens_ of all places, passes out for 18 hours straight, and scarfing down what feels like a whole pizza shop when he wakes up. It’s almost midnight of the next night when he remembers Peter Parker, the way his nose had wrinkled at the burning smell coming off Johnny’s suit, his warm brown eyes. Johnny’s still not sure if Peter had been flirting back, but even after five minutes together, he _liked_ him. 

There are a few Peter Parkers on Facebook and Instagram, but Johnny finds him eventually. There’s a picture of him in a beanie, and he has glasses on, which. Johnny didn’t think did it for him, but the look _works._

Johnny reviews what he knows about him. He’s 16. Goes to Midtown High. Lives in Queens ( _unfortunate,_ but Johnny can live with that). Cute. There’s a picture of him holding up a science award, so he must be smart, too. He’d rolled his eyes when Johnny jokingly referred to him as his knight in shining armor. Hadn’t looked _too_ impressed when Johnny flirted with him, but if Johnny’s telling the truth, he’s always liked people who weren’t easily impressed by him. 

Johnny checks the school website. They’re closed for the weekend, but they’ll be open on Monday. Spanish classes will be in the gym until the roof is fixed. 

Johnny kinda wants to see him again.

“Cool,” Johnny says, when he goes to get some milk at 3 AM, not freaking out. He’s _not._ “Cool, cool. I’ll just stroll into a high school I don’t go to and say, ‘Hey, Parker. Thanks for not running and screaming when I crashed through your school’s roof. Wanna go get a burger?’” Johnny groans. “He’s going to think I’m a stalker.”

“Who’s going to think you’re a stalker?” Reed asks from behind him.

Johnny nearly jumps out of his skin. “Reed! What the hell?”

“Don’t drink the milk, Johnny,” Reed says, stretching his arm around Johnny and into the fridge. “I’m running an experiment and I needed to put a specimen into the carton. Milk helps it grow.”

Johnny shoots him a scathing look. “Of course,” he says. “Did you put some alien specimen into the OJ too?”

Reed just looks at him, puzzled. “Why would I do that? The acid wouldn’t be conducive towards the experiment.”

“Sure,” Johnny says faintly. “I should’ve known.”

“Who are you stalking?” Reed asks again, and _damn,_ Johnny hates when Reed’s attention span stretches past three seconds. “Is it another celebrity? Because you _know_ what Sue said about that.”

“I’m not stalking anyone!” Johnny says, face burning. He makes his escape, orange juice in tow. “There is no stalking whatsoever going on!” 

* * *

When Johnny sees Peter on Monday, he’s got a Yankees cap pulled low and sunglasses on. It’s a bulletproof disguise, as far as Johnny is concerned, up until Peter spots him from across the school lawn at dismissal and comes over.

“Johnny Storm,” Peter says, brow furrowed. “Hi.”

“Peter Parker,” Johhny drawls out, flashing him the patented Human Torch smile. 

Peter’s cheek twitches, and Johnny wants to touch it, feel the muscle move under his fingers. He’s even cuter without, y’know, the dust and rubble that’d been covering him the first time Johnny saw him. He has a few freckles, too, but Johnny can only tell now that his skin is clean and they’re so close.

“This is ridiculous,” Peter starts, and Johnny feels his heart stutter. Maybe Peter wasn’t flirting back last time after all, maybe Johnny had just been delirious and reading into things, maybe—

But Peter just continues, oblivious to Johnny’s crisis. “The Human Torch, in Queens? For the second time in less than a week? And willingly to boot. I must be the luckiest guy in New York to be graced with your presence.” 

Is Peter _blushing?_ Johnny can see the redness creeping up his neck. Is he _shy?_ Suddenly Johnny is grinning and so relieved that he blurts out, “I want to take you out.” At Peter’s confused look, he elaborates, somewhat unhelpfully. “You know, out.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise so high that they disappear under his hair. He looks disbelieving. “I-uh. Really? Like, out as in out on a date?”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “No, take you out as in kill you. Yes, on a _date.”_

Peter fidgets with the straps of his bag. “Is that a good idea?”

Johnny studies him carefully. “Are you not into guys?”

“I am. I mean, I haven’t...I am. But I mean, you don’t know me.”

“That’s what the purpose of going on a _date_ would be. Getting to know each other.” His voice goes all teasing, “I mean, I want to get to know you, obviously. I did come all the way out to Queens to ask you out. I’m basically slumming it.” 

Peter bites his lip. Johnny kinda wants to lean forward and do the same. “I have homework,” he says, and again, Johnny feels a stab of disappointment before Peter continues, “so I have to be home by nine. What do you have in mind?”

Johnny grins. “I’m glad you asked,” he says, grabbing Peter’s arm and pulling him along. “Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

Peter groans, but follows without a struggle. “I can already tell, Storm. You’re going to be trouble.”

Johnny thinks, with anyone else, that might have stung. But Peter is smiling, and all he can think is— _I can tell, Parker, you’re trouble too._

* * *

“I met someone,” Johnny tells Spidey, the next week. They’ve just finished fending off the Rhino (and _god,_ that guy was dumber than a bag of bricks) and Johnny’s feeling loose and easy, the way he tends to after a good workout.

“Oh yeah?” Spidey sinks down into a crouch, except he’s sticking to a wall and it’s not really _down_ so much as it is _sideways,_ but whatever. Johnny doesn’t want to hurt his brain thinking about how weird orientation is in Spidey’s world. He goes for a joke, “Who’s the _un_ lucky person?”

Johnny shoots sparks at Spidey, harmless enough, but enough to make him yelp. “Be _nice,_ Web-Head. His name’s Peter and I like him a lot.”

“Nice?” Spidey laughs, almost uncomfortably, and webs down Johnny’s hand. “That doesn’t sound like me!”

Johnny glares at him, and burns through the webbing. “Be serious for a minute. I like him.”

Spidey quiets, and he’s not laughing when he says, “A lot. Yeah, you’ve said.” He sighs. “So what’s wrong with him?”

“What? Why would anything be wrong with him?”

“Well, you’re bringing him up to _me._ There must be something wrong.”

Johnny blinks. “No, I just—I wanted to tell you. He’s really nice. I think you’d like him, actually.” He mock wags his finger at Spider-Man, “Don’t go stealing my boyfriend when you meet him, though, you menace!”

Spidey chokes on air, and lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Boyfriend?” he repeats, and his voice is a bit strange. “Huh.”

Johnny can feel his face burn. “Well, not yet. We’ve only gone out a few times. But I really…”

“Like him?” Spidey’s head is tilted, as if he’s considering. 

Johnny glares. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No! No, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just...I didn’t think you _got_ serious, that’s all.”

Johnny frowns. “Do I sound serious?”

Spidey hesitates, nods. “Kinda.”

“Huh.” Johnny lays back, arms under his head. He can feel himself smiling, but he doesn’t care if Spider-Man sees that he’s being sappy. “I guess I am.”

* * *

“Hey there, Hot Stuff,” Peter says, when Johnny picks him up a two weeks later on a Sunday, leaning in the open doorway of his house. He’s got _terrible_ bed-head, and looks like he’s barely awake. Johnny’s heart can’t stop racing. 

“Pete,” Johnny greets, and before he can second guess himself, grabs a fistfull of Peter’s shirt, pulls him forward into a kiss. He tastes like toothpaste.

“Ohhh, boy, you’re going to get me in so much trouble,” Peter breathes, when they’ve pulled apart. He sounds a bit winded, and Johnny wants nothing more than to kiss him again. “My aunt just left for work. Wanna come in? I need to make coffee before we go.”

“Yes, please.”

“Just for coffee,” Peter says, shooting Johnny a stern look. “Don’t get ideas, mister.”

“I don’t have enough room on my head for this fabulous hair _and_ ideas, Parker. You should know that by now.”

Peter laughs, and rewards him with a kiss for the dumb joke. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Torchie.”

“Yeah,” Johnny says breathlessly. _God,_ the way his heart beats around Peter... “You’re definitely going to have to be the breadwinner in this relationship. I’m signing up to be a trophy wife, you know.” 

“Well,” Peter says, sweeping his arms around in that awkward, adorable way of his, gesturing to the house. “Welcome to your sugar daddy’s mansion, then.”

“Oh my _god.”_

Peter winces, “Stop, I already regret it.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as a sugar daddy? This is the best day of my life.”

Peter scowls, but then he’s dissolving into laughter right alongside Johnny. 

That’s the last thing Johnny remembers before he hears a _BOOM_ , and then everything fades to black.

* * *

When Johnny wakes up, his head hurts. 

“We’ve got to stop doing this,” he groans, when he sees Peter. 

“You’re a regular fainting damsel,” Peter quips nervously, before he’s biting his lip.He looks worried. “Are you okay? You hit your head pretty hard.”

Johnny tries to sit up. “What happened? Are we safe? Oh god, did one of the FF’s villains follow me to Queens?” 

Peter breathes in, a sharp, fast breath. “Yeah, we’re ok. And for once, this actually had like, nothing to do with you.” He looks away, and Johnny thinks Peter looks almost...guilty. “It was the Green Goblin.”

“What??” Johnny exclaims, and sits up. “Peter, you need to get out of here, Spider-Man says this guy is _nuts,_ are you hurt??”

“Johnny, don’t worry.” Peter catches his wrists. “He’s gone. You were out for a few minutes. It’s over.”

Johnny is confused. And then he looks around. 

People have been calling Johnny dumb since he was a little kid. He’s made the _dumb blond_ jokes a few times himself, leaned into it once in a while. He didn’t care what the strangers out there thought about him, as long as his family and friends knew the truth. He’s not _dumb._

Looking around him now, though. He’s never felt so stupid before.

There are _webs_ on the walls. And under his hands, where they’ve landed on Peter’s chest, under the ripped shirt Peter was wearing—

“Oh my god,” Johnny can’t breathe. “Oh my _god.”_

“Johnny—”

He’s got to be dreaming. There’s no way _Peter Parker_ is Spider-Man. No. He’s landed in an alternate dimension.

“I have to go,” Johnny says faintly, and then he’s flaming on and he’s _gone._

* * *

Sue lets Johnny wallow in misery for two days before she breaks down his door. 

“You have two choices,” she tells him, hands on her hips. “One, you can go and help Ben get ready for his date with Alicia, which will take several hours and lets say around three breakdowns, or two. You can tell me what the _hell_ is going on with you. And why Spider-Man webbed these to the window of Reed’s lab.”

The flowers she pulls out are really pitiful. 

“I think the wind ruined them,” Sue admits. “And he must have swung them over. But look, there’s a card.”

_Johnny, I’m so sorry. Please call me. I’ll explain everything, I swear. -P_

Johnny turns the card over in his hands. “Honestly,” he croaks, his voice rough, “I’d rather die than help Ben ever get ready for a date again. I’m not equipped for that much anxiety.”

So he tells her. 

* * *

Johnny texts Peter: _baxter building roof. 30 minutes._

Spider-Man makes it in forty-five.

“Sorry,” he rushes out when he lands. “Electro was holding up a tech company uptown and I didn’t see your text until five minutes ago.” He winces at Johnny’s expression, a full-body wince that is so _Peter_ that Johnny can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. “Sorry,” he adds again, quieter.

“You better be,” Johnny says, and points to the spot opposite him. “Sit.”

Johnny studies the blank mask while Peter arranges himself. He hates it, suddenly, not being able to see Peter’s face. He’s glad when Peter’s hands twitch and finally roll the mask up. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says. He’s got a bruise on his face and his hair is sticking up. Johnny thought it was bedhead earlier, but no—it was _mask_ hair. And Peter was always tired and saying he didn’t sleep, was always creaking around like an old man the day after Spidey got hurt and...why didn’t Johnny see it before?

“We dated for _weeks_ and you didn’t think to say, ‘Hey Johnny, you know your best friend Spider-Man? The crime fighter you hang out with _all_ the time? I, your boyfriend Peter Parker, am that guy.’”

“We haven’t been dating for that long,” Peter says, quiet. He’s twisting his mask in his hands. “I didn’t—I thought you’d lose interest. Or we’d break up. Or—I don’t know. Something terrible would happen, because something terrible _always_ happens to me. Gwen, my uncle… the Green Goblin just demolished my living room, for god’s sake! Bad things are _attracted_ to me. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend if we didn’t last.”

“And if it did?” Johnny demands. “If we dated for six months? A year? Would you have finally told me then?”

“Of _course_ I would,” Peter says, and when he meets Johnny’s gaze his eyes are burning. “Johnny, I like you _so_ much. I’ve liked you since we met. I would have told you, and I’m an idiot for not telling you sooner.”

Johnny looks away. He’s breathing fast, he realizes. _I like you so much._ “You can’t ever lie to me again,” he says. “Not ever again, Web-Head. Not for something that big.”

When he looks back at Peter, his eyes are wide. Johnny likes seeing his face. He likes seeing what Peter is feeling. “You mean...you’re not mad?”

“I am _fantastically_ mad,” Johnny says primly. “You will be making this up to me for _years. Years_ , do you hear me?”

Peter grins slowly. “Yeah, Torch. I hear you.”

Johnny reaches out carefully, grabbing one of Peter’s gloved hands. “Start from the beginning, then. Tell me how you—how you became Spider-Man. I want to know everything.”

* * *

“I _hate_ you,” Peter says, with feeling. “You are the worst person I know.”

Johnny grins, “You love me,” he says. “Now shut up. Be nice for your trophy wife and let me enjoy the view.”

Peter groans. When he speaks, he puts on a bad Brooklyn accent. “‘ _Spider-Menace seen desecrating a national monument, lures hero Torch to the dark side._ ’ The headlines write themselves, Johnny!”

“Don’t listen to him, Lady Liberty,” Johnny says, patting the metal underneath him before waving enthusiastically at the news helicopter that’s started circling them. “Your reputation remains intact.”

“Johnny,” Peter whines. “This was supposed to be our date night. We could be punching the _Vulture_ right now.”

“You’re so high maintenance,” Johnny says, clucking his tongue. Then he calls out, “Hi, boys!” 

The reporter in the helicopter is waving frantically at Johnny. 

“Be just a moment,” he tells Peter, before flaming on and flying up to them. 

“There’s an attack in Harlem,” the reporter yells over the noise. “Someone was saying something about aliens. We were on our way over when we saw you two!”

Johnny salutes him, says “Got it,” and flies back to the Statue of Liberty. 

“Well,” he says. “I may not be able to deliver the Vulture on a platter, but would some aliens fit your punching quota?”

The mask shifts in a way that tells Johnny that Peter is grinning under it. 

“Oh, baby,” Spidey croons. “You get me the nicest things.”

If Johnny makes sure the helicopter is pointing away before rolling up Peter’s mask and giving him a swift, hard kiss, well. You can’t fault him. He just really, _really_ likes his boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> As someone from Queens, writing Johnny make fun of Queens physically hurt me ;P
> 
> I hope you all liked this, and if you did please consider leaving a comment below!


End file.
